workout wasn’t going to bring back the Dalgleish of old, he reminded himself. But he still vowed to go to a spin class no matter how late he finished work to make up for his morning absence.
He pushed his shoulders back and forth to release the building tension as he made his way to the unisex changing rooms. Under the watchful eye of another security operative, he stripped off all his clothing and placed the garments inside a metal container. Only then was he presented with his daily uniform: a fresh set, never been worn before. It was made of an undisclosed fabric with no pockets or hems to smuggle anything in or out. Underwear and socks were not permitted under this standard-issue T-shirt, trousers and sandals.
Once dressed, he made for his workstation inside a windowless, open-plan room. He counted forty or so people, each holding or operating tablets, wearing earpieces or VR headsets. Dozens of television screens were projected onto walls, each featuring separate locations but none of which included buildings or people – only roads, motorway bridges, the sky and stretches of water.
He tapped the shoulder of a man on a seat. He was fixated by a screen in front of him. ‘Oh hey, Lee,’ he responded and yawned. ‘Is it that time already?’
Dalgleish nodded. ‘Sure is. What have I missed?’
‘Same old,’ replied Irvine. ‘Nothing. No traffic route deviation, the power levels are still running about eighty per cent and tyre pressure is constant.’
‘Where are we heading today then?’
‘We should reach the M90 and Queensferry Crossing Bridge in a little over an hour, then up to Perth and Dundee before turning around and heading back through Scotland. By the time your shift comes to an end, we’ll be somewhere in the region of Newcastle.’
Irvine rose to his feet, removed his earpiece and smart glasses and dropped them both into an electronics shredder under his desk. ‘See you tomorrow,’ he said and tipped an imaginary hat.
Dalgleish took his seat and typed a seven-digit code into an aluminium security box he’d picked up on his entry. When the lid opened, he retrieved and slipped on a fresh pair of smart glasses and inserted a new earpiece. Then he removed a protein bar from his drawer and made himself comfortable.
The image he would be watching for the rest of the day was the same one he had watched each day of his employment. It was the empty cab of an autonomous articulated lorry. The corner of the screen revealed that the vehicle had been travelling for seventy-six consecutive days with no stops. It recharged its batteries using wireless energy from coils under roads and its tyres shed their skin like reptiles to reveal another set underneath. Travelling at a steady 55 mph, the lorry calculated and chose for itself the routes it would take. Dalgleish’s job was to ensure there was no threat to its security.
As he chewed on his bar, he checked the status reports sent to his computer from the cab’s central console to confirm Irvine’s update. Then he monitored the outside of the vehicle and its surroundings from a multitude of cameras attached to the sides, rear and undercarriage. The only section his security clearance made it impossible to oversee was inside the trailer.
To other road users, this articulated lorry was indistinguishable from any other on British roads. It was an unbranded, mass-manufactured driverless vehicle. The only difference was the cargo it carried. That was more important than anyone could ever imagine. Only a restricted number had a vague idea of what was hidden inside, including Dalgleish. Even fewer knew the precise details. He had signed countless Non-Disclosure Agreements and Official Secrets Act papers forbidding him from telling anyone what his job entailed.
He glanced in the direction of his other colleagues’ workstations. Most were doing the same as him, focusing on their own lorries. Two also kept their eyes on a solar-powered plane and a small team was dedicated to observing the deck of a cargo ship. It was loaded with containers and travelling on an infinite loop across the North Sea, alternating its direction to avoid storm tides and changes in barometric pressure.
With Dalgleish’s right eye returning to his own lorry, his left was getting up to speed with the day’s news as it appeared on the lens of his smart glasses. It had taken a couple of weeks for him to quietly perfect this type of multitasking but even now his eyes ached by the end